


I Slept With An Assassin And Now I Have Feelings

by Morbid_Hatter



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Getting Together, Infinity Gems, M/M, Minor Violence, Past Brainwashing, Time Gem (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10109588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbid_Hatter/pseuds/Morbid_Hatter
Summary: Years ago Clint and the Winter Soldier are given the same target and meet. Instead of eliminating the competition, the Soldier is intrigued by the disaster who beat him to the target. Through years of mind wipes disjointed images of blond and arrows keep coming back. When he breaks the mind control permanently, he wants to find Steve and the guy who kept sneaking around Hydra's mind wipes.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for the 2017 Winterhawk Mini Bang. Y'all need to check out the accompanying art   
> here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10081265
> 
> send Ana some well deserved lovin'! anyone who puts up with me deserves all the love

The Soldier slept - if one could call it sleep. He sat frozen in a chamber awaiting his trigger words; awaiting his orders.

 

Multiple memory wipes made had ruined part of the cortex of his brain. He didn’t dream; but there is no need for the Soldier to dream. The Asset works best when there are no distractions.

 

But despite this, the Soldier could see flashes of _blond_ and _blue_ and _bruises_ and _arrows_. None of it made sense. He knew of no one who matched these dreams? memories? visions? whatever they were. It was maddening; but still he slept on, unable to wake himself from his frozen sleep.

 

_Тоска. Ржавевший. Семнадцать. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Мягкий. Возвращение домой. Один. Грузовой вагон._

The trigger was spoken and the Soldier awoke, his senses sharp despite being frozen for an unknown amount of time. The first thing he is aware of is the soft _thump_ of a book closing. “Good morning, Soldier,” his handler greeted pleasantly.

 

“Ready to comply,” the Soldier replied. _But why?_ a repressed and damaged part of his mind thought. The Soldier shook the errant thought away as he was briefed on his next mission: destroy Captain America.

 

The Soldier never remembered much from his time out of Cryo. It wasn’t necessary. But he could remember a meeting in a dark apartment, a roof top fight with a man…he had a shield. This seemed important. Was that his Target?

 

_Yes._

 

Another fight. A flying death machine. Fire. _I’m with you ‘til the end of the line._

 

And just like that - it all came back. Memories upon memories. Before he was the Soldier; back when he was James ‘Bucky’ Barnes - Captain America was his best friend, his brother. The rush of memories was enough to make him sick.

 

He pulled Steve out of the water and retrieved his shield before he fled out of Washington D.C. without being seen. He had a lot of thinking and remembering to do. One thing he was determined to figure out was who he had been remember while he had been in stasis.

 

He had originally thought it had been Steve with a jumble of other memories that had been unsuccessfully wiped away, but then Steve had lost his helmet and he realized that it wasn’t Steve. _Wrong shade of blond. Too dark._

 

While he ran he thought. He avoided Hydra, the remains of SHIELD, and Steve as he thought about who he was. Decades as a nameless asset made him feel like not-Bucky. Could he ever go back to the man he was before he fell? He would have to abandon the name Bucky until he felt he could earn it back. Only Steve could give him that part of himself back.

 

But, for now, he could be James. James was a safe name. It didn’t have any connections to anything, good or bad. He could start over with James until he earned Bucky back.

 

***

 

James kept moving, never staying in the same place for more than a night for fear that someone would catch up to him. He kept running while he tried to piece together his Cryo memories with the other flashes he was getting. At first it was disjointed. He remembered dates and targets; but this person, these memories weren’t that of a target. It wasn’t tainted with the haze of _empty_ and _red_ that tarnished everything else that had come flooding back to him. These flashes made him think of _safe_ and _happy_ and _sunshine trapped in a smile_.

 

James lounged on a rooftop of a Motel 8 off of I-95 with a latte and a pack of cigarettes. Only one of these felt right to him but he liked the sweet taste of the latte, and liked that he was able to choose to drink it even better. It tasted like freedom.

 

He must’ve closed his eyes for a moment too long because he began to remember - he still couldn’t dream, but it was enough. Part of him couldn’t believe that he had fallen asleep out in the open, but it wasn’t enough to wake him from his memory of a strong pair of arms and mischievous eyes.

 

_The blond seemed to tower over him, but in that moment he didn’t feel threatened. In fact, the Soldier felt more at ease than ever. In that moment he wasn’t an Asset, he was a man. They hadn’t exchanged names, but perhaps he could have given out a name, even a false one instead of killing the wide-eyed mercenary who had taken out his Target._

_They had gone for drinks. Perhaps he had been out of Cryo too long. This had probably happened before and he had been wiped for his own good. But his handlers weren’t around and his extraction wasn’t until dawn._

_His companion was young. Probably too young to actually drink, but it didn’t seem to stop him from procuring them both a strong drink and a basket of round things that reeked of onions and oil (but no matter the smell they tasted wonderful after years spent eating MREs). “So, I’m not gonna get you in trouble for takin’ out your guy, am I?”_

_He thought perhaps it would. He would be wiped at least; but best not let the blond know that. No, it was best to keep that to himself. “Nah,” he lied easily as he slugged back half his drink in one go. Whiskey. Nice. Woodsy and smokey. Better than the clear swill the Russians called liquor. “Are you going to get in trouble for spending time with the competition?”_

_A wicked smile was his only answer for several long moments. “No,” he blond answered slowly, drawing the word out to the point that it seemed he was lying too only if he was really bad at it. “I just need to report back in the next 24 hours.”_

_The simple statement seemed to awaken something. A long-dormant feeling of_ want _and_ need _crashed over him. He could do something about it. It was a different time. It was okay now - or, it was more okay now than it had been._

_“Any other plans for tonight?”_

James sat up, breathing heavily. Whoever the blond was or had been, he had slept with him. Maybe? He had at least lead up to that point. He cursed his body for waking up, but he understood why: accelerated heart rate, chemicals rushing about in his brain, and his body was used to these things triggering him to alertness.

 

He sighed and ran his flesh hand through his long hair. Maybe one day he’d remember. But for now, he needed to get off of the roof and sleep behind a door with a lock to stave away the paranoia. He needed to sleep. He had a long drive ahead of him.

 

It was time to find Steve so James could become Bucky again.

 

***

 

James didn’t want to admit that he had been stalling with the hope that he would have himself figured out a bit more before he found Steve again, but Fate had other ideas.

 

In the midst of a battle with dinosaurs in the middle of Central Park - something to do with a Time Stone - James found himself back to back with one Steven Grant Rogers. James felt himself cringe slightly as Steve turned his patented Disappointed FaceÔ on him. He still felt guilty when the frown quirked up at the corners while James tried to smack a Pterodactyl out of the way only for it to veer off course thanks to an arrow.

 

Arrow?

 

Who the hell uses arrows? “Are we fighting Robin Hood too?” James asked Steve. Steve laughed at him; it was a breathless sound that made some deep rooted part of his brain react with a hint of panic.

 

“No Robin Hood. And don’t let Clint hear you calling him that or we’ll have a war on our hands.”

 

James frowned and squinted at a building on the other side of the wall surrounding the park where there was a person shooting honest to God arrows off the roof.

 

_The Soldier almost put a bullet through the kids brain on principle. He had, after all, taken away his Target. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the victory fist pump (unlikely the reason), or the happy dance complete with generous, salacious hip gyrations (also unlikely but still pleasant to look at), or the unconventional weaponry (the most likely reason) that made him stop._

_Whatever the reason, he kept the boy in his sights until he acrobated himself off the roof adjacent from the Soldier’s position, completely unaware of just how close he had come to his death. The Soldier put his rifle away and stalked down the fire escape with all intentions of following the little bastard who had taken out his Target._

As soon as it came on, the vision was gone and James was left chasing the wisps of a memory while trying to pry a set of claws from his metal arm without ruining the delicate mechanism of the whirring plates.

 

“I’m seriously glad these things are extinct,” a voice said from his left. James’s first instinct was to turn and shoot, but he forced it away. He was away from his handlers and everyone who wanted to use him as a weapon. He still twitched towards the voice with his rifle half pointed at someone who had not been standing next to him before the memory had taken over. “Woah, Terminator! Stand down! I’m on your team.”

 

Blond.

 

Sky blue eyes.

 

_There’s sunshine in that smile…._

 

“Well shit,” James said with only a little surprise. He had suspected it after the flying rat, but the cocky smile directed his way confirmed it. “You were skinnier last time I saw you.”

 

Blondie’s head whipped around to look at James. In the brief moment where he wasn’t focusing on the horde of raptors trying to surround them, Blondie took a heavy tail to the gut and was thrown to the ground several feet away.

 

He tried not to laugh, honestly tried. It worked for all of ten seconds before he cracked a smile and then started laughing. It wasn’t enough to break his focus although it was close.

 

“Nobody saw that,” the blond called as he jumped up, clearly winded but no worse for wear. “I’m okay!”

 

James shook his head and made a vow, then and there, to protect yet another tragic blond who got into fights too big for him to finish. It was obvious that Steve had finally learned to look out for himself (at least a little bit) since before the Army - Washington D.C. not withstanding - so now he was sans tragic blond. Right now he figured he needed something to take his mind off his own problems, which he knew was a terrible coping method but he really didn’t care, and why not use adorable blond with the ridiculously broad shoulders to do just that? _Besides, that ass is wonderful and I kinda want to touch it…_

 

He knew the odds of the literal man of his dreams remembering him were pretty much slim to none but he knew he wanted to try. Maybe something would happen. And if nothing happened, he would at least practice being a real person with real relationships (even if friendship was the only thing to come of this that totally would count as a relationship).

 

Yeah, that was the plan.

 

***

 

James, unfortunately, didn’t plan on Clint being completely oblivious to pretty much anything around him when he wasn’t in Mission ModeÔ. When he didn’t have to keep up with gods, super soldiers (which apparently James qualified as? Who knew?), suits of armor, and enormous green rage monsters; Clint was pretty much a disaster.

 

When they had finally gotten around to introductions after the dinosaurs had been taken care of and the Time Stone had been secured inside a force field of some kind Blondie had been introduced as Clint Barton aka Hawkeye. “World’s Greatest Marksman!” he had proudly proclaimed before tossing a quarter into the air, pulling a .9mm from _somewhere_ , and shooting through the dead center of the coin.

 

Part of him wanted to ask him where he had been keeping that gun, but the larger part of him wanted to do something even more impressive.

 

In the end he had done neither and allowed the goofy blond his moment. Which, in retrospect, was probably best. He wouldn’t get another moment that wasn’t at least slightly embarrassing for quite a while. One morning James watched Clint stumble past him, accidentally walk straight into the counter before downing half a carafe of coffee. “Good morning, sunshine,” James couldn’t help but taunt. It was usually funny to surprise Clint in the mornings.

 

Today was obviously an anomaly. Today, Clint jumped, tensed, and threw the carafe at James’s head without even stopping to see who was talking to him.

 

The only thing that saved James from a face full of nearly scalding coffee was his super reflexes. “Sorry sorry!” Clint said once the fog behind his eyes had cleared. “I wasn’t - I didn’t - Shit, man, I’m sorry.”

 

James could see the panic settle onto Clint’s shoulders and behind his dark eyes - sleep deprivation was awful especially when it was because of something inside yourself. “It’s okay.” He hoped his voice came across as soothing - he wasn’t good at different tones of voice yet even though he was practicing. “I shouldn’t have startled you at ass o’clock.”

 

Clint let out a shaky breath and rubbed a trembling hand over his eyes. He sat down at the high top breakfast table and dropped his head onto the smooth wooden top. “I’m a mess in the mornings as it is. The nightmares have been getting to me recently,” he complained. “I’ll be okay.”

 

James hummed noncommittally and leaned forward so he could make Clint lift his head with the help of his metal arm. It was nice sometimes. Clint was the only one who gave zero fucks about the arm. Steve just looked guilty; Sam just seemed sad because Steve was guilty; Natasha was always wary of it as if it was going to bite her; and Tony looked at it like he wanted to tinker with it. And Clint, sweet thing that he was, just called him Robo-Cop or Terminator and shrugged it off like it didn’t matter whatsoever. It was nice.

 

“Come on, Robin Hood, let’s get you some diner breakfast. We’ll need to vacate quickly before Captain Buzz Kill give me a Look for going out before I’m officially cleared to be in public.” He didn’t have an alternate reason for wanting to get Clint away from the tower and have some one on one time. He _didn’t_.

 

Well, he did, but he also knew that he wasn’t quite brave enough to fill Clint in on what he remembered from years ago when they had met in Venice. He knew something had happened between them - and the more he got to know the other sniper the more he would like something to happen again. If only he could tell one way or another how Clint felt.

 

It had been months and Clint was still as oblivious as ever.

 

It was really frustrating.

 

***

 

“Tasha!” Clint whined pitifully and let his head thump harshly against the solid oak table. They were as alone as they were ever going to get and Clint was taking complete advantage of the situation. With Tony and Bruce sequestered in one of the tower’s many labs (tinkering with Odin knew what) and Steve having stolen James for the afternoon for a walk around Brooklyn the two master assassins were slumming it in their pajamas.

 

Natasha only looked up from her tea and leveled Clint with an unimpressed look.

 

“Tasha!” Clint tried again after Natasha made no move to answer him verbally. “I’m having a crisis!”

 

“What is it this time?” she asked as if he had crises all the time.

 

“I may have - a long time ago - when I was younger and dumber - kinda, sorta, slept with the Winter Soldier.”

 

Natasha raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and sipped on her tea as if she already knew this. “And you survived. So what’s the problem?”

 

Clint heaved a sigh and turned his head so that he was looking at Natasha through his fringe. “And-” he said, dragging the single syllable out much longer than necessary, “I may be developing _feelings_. Tasha, I’m bad at feelings. Bad things happen when I get my stupid feelings involved with people I care about.”

 

She hummed in agreement and went back to her tea as if Clint’s crisis was just a mild interruption to her normal morning and not the potentially life-ruining situation that Clint was sure it would turn into.

 

After a long pause wherein Natasha finished her tea, she deemed his cause worthy of her input. “We turned out alright.”

 

Clint groaned and thumped his forehead against the counter. “After a lot of awkwardness and a kick in the ass,” he whined before he curled around his coffee cup. Oh, coffee. It was wonderful and delicious (Tony Stark and his wonderful French Press did wonderful things and they were most wonderful) and much less confusing than almost anything else in the world.

 

“I think you’re trying to make a mountain out of a molehill. You and James could be good for each other.”

 

Clint whined and shook his head. “I’m a wreck, Tash. I am a train wreck of a human being.”

 

Natasha didn’t answer, she gave him a warm smile and a pat to his shoulder before she left the kitchen and left him to his wallowing.

 

“Thanks!” he called to her, hoping his sarcasm wasn’t lost on her. “You’re so helpful!”

 

He let himself wallow for a few more minutes before he heard the ding of the elevator signaling someone’s arrival. It didn’t matter who was going to come out of the elevator, Clint really didn’t want anyone else to know he had been angsting in the kitchen like a sullen teen. Instead, he did the totally adult thing and hurried out before he was no longer alone.

 

So adult.

 

He didn’t allow himself to mope alone long before he wandered out of his room in search of Darcy. She would either sympathize with him or laugh in his face; but both were better than the cryptic looks Natasha had thrown his way earlier - like he was just supposed to _know_ what to do. He’s not good with dealing with his issues, or talking things over, or not angsting morosely over something that happened years ago. He’s not good at adulting in general. Darcy wouldn’t judge him too hard for it.

 

Hopefully.

 

***

 

Clint knew he couldn’t outrun his problems forever (not that being attracted to James was a problem _per say_ but it did make Team Bonding TimeÔ really fudging awkward); but he wasn’t really expecting the team up of Natasha and Darcy. It was _not_ part of his master plan of Ignoring the Problem Until It Went Away. In fact, those two working together was just bad for anyone and anything in their way.

 

He was perched on a barstool where he could keep an eye on the two heads bowed together over the back of the couch. _Plotting. They’re probably plotting_ , he thought as his paranoia mounted.

 

It was getting to the point where he just wanted to say Fudge It All and just go do something about his really awkward crush. But he was also smart. Most people overlooked him when it came to his intelligence; after all, he had perfected the Midwestern hick persona over the course of his tenure as a mercenary and had been reluctant to shed it when he joined SHIELD. People tended to underestimate him because of it - and that was a-okay with Clint. It was just another weapon in his arsenal. Because of this carefully constructed mask, he didn’t think James would be able to see through it so quickly.

 

He thought back to the day before when he and Tony had been down in one of the bigger labs in Stark Tower (now dubbed Avengers Tower, but it is what it is) attempting to make plasma arrows so that Clint wouldn’t have to worry about running out.

 

“Gosh Tony,” he remembered saying while casually scratching the itchy spot low on his shoulder blade with an arrow, “all this math just goes over my head. Are you sure you need me here for this?” In all honesty, he knew what Tony was talking about to some extent (the theory of creating fracking plasma arrows was completely foreign to him, but the part about trajectory and energy and all the other parts of archery that he didn’t have names for but knew instinctively) but he really, _really_ didn’t want to be cooped up in a lab when he could be doing something useful elsewhere.

 

“You’re so full of shit, Barton,” a voice called from behind the duo. Clint avoided jumping at the unexpected voice but only just. “If you can’t do the math for shooting an apple off my head from 200 feet, I’ll eat my metal arm.”

 

“Well shucks, Barnes,” Clint said, pointedly ignoring the blush he could feel burning his ears and the back of his neck, “I didn’t know you paid that much attention to little ol’ me.”

 

James sighed heavily and pulled Clint from the stool he had been half sitting on and steered him towards the door. “So forceful,” Clint had said while trying to sound flirty but really only came across as impressed and slightly desperate.

 

Once they were safely out of Stark’s Lab of Perpetual Boredom Clint turned towards James and offered him a grateful smile. “Thanks, James. I really just feel like I’m in his way. If he comes up with anything he can have F.R.I.D.A.Y. hunt me down, but until then, I really don’t see the point of sitting around while he figures all that crap out.”

 

James, for some reason, looked perplexed. “Seriously? You can drop the dumb farm boy act. I know some of that crap is over everyone’s head but Stark’s, but you can’t honestly believe that any of us are falling for that shitck”

 

Clint shrugged and went for nonchalance but missed by a mile. “I’m not used to being around people who have taken the time to get to know me as someone more than a pair of eyes up high.”

 

James shook his head and slapped Clint across the back with his flesh hand before allowing it to rest across Clint’s shoulders as best he could with the 6 inch height difference between them. Using his new position, James steered Clint towards the elevator. “Come on, I’ll bet you ten bucks I can beat you in a game of pool.”

 

Clint, forgetting his feeling for the former assassin, snorted inelegantly and rolled his eyes heavily in James’ direction. “You’re so on, Robo Cop.”

 

“Bring it on, Katniss,” James countered and laughed at Clint’s dumbfounded look over his knowledge of current pop culture.

 

“My whole perspective on you just changed. How even -” he stopped and shook his head before he hurried to catch up to James. “No cheating with that arm!”


	2. Part 2

James considered himself a patient person; he may not have been so much when he was Bucky, but now he could wait out even the most elusive target. In this case though, he was losing his mind.

 

Clint was the most oblivious person in the history of ever. And James should know: he’s been alive for nearly a century.

 

He could see the paranoia mounting in those broad shoulders every time Darcy and Natalia ( _Natasha_ , _her preferred name is Natasha,_ his mind automatically corrected) had their heads bent together. Then again, James could understand it. Those two women could rule the world if they tried. It was a little intimidating.

 

A lot, actually, if he was being honest with himself.

 

It took weeks before he couldn’t stand to see the tension in Clint’s body anymore. It was making him anxious. He didn’t like being anxious. It messed with his already messed up sleep cycle. “Come on, Legolas, we’re going on a drive,” he said as he, once again, dragged Clint out of a room that was getting a little too awkward for everyone’s sake.

 

He could feel the heat radiating off Clint’s body as he clung on to his back like a koala as James’ motorcycle roared to life. It was nice and intense and calming and nerve wracking. It was a lot of everything and James had to force himself to remember that this wasn’t the forties anymore. He wouldn’t get killed for letting himself feel something more than platonic for another man.

 

It was liberating. And terrifying. But mostly liberating.

 

Now, he just had to act on it.

 

He took the entire ride out to the beach regulating his breathing even as Clint relaxed and began to whoop with laughter behind him. If he could, he would’ve patted himself on the back for a job well done; as it was, he just allowed the sense of contentedness to wash over him and loosen his muscles enough to relax and enjoy the last of the easy touch before he parked his bike.

 

The beach was quiet except for a small handful of people; but James wasn’t expecting anything different. It was warm, but not hot enough to heat up the water past the normal frigid temperature.

 

“Montauk?” Clint asked with a laugh when he removed his helmet and was able to speak without shouting. “Are we monster hunting?”

 

“Monster hunting?” James parroted back at the blond. It was apparent he was missing something. He knew it wasn’t the usual tourist destination, but that was exactly why he had chosen this particular stretch of beach. It was nice but too rocky for most people to consider it great beach access.

 

“Yeah. Back in like 2007 or something, this animal corpse washed up on the beach and no one could identify it. There was this big conspiracy that it was the result of genetic experiments from Plum Island but later they called it a raccoon that was all fudged up looking from being in the water too long.” While he had been explaining the odd sighting he had been tapping on his phone until Stark’s weird phone/computer/projector hybrid brought up a picture of a nearly hairless _thing_. “Oops. My bad. This says it was 2008.”

 

James just hummed and tried not to grimace at the strange image still being projected up from the phone’s screen. He looked up and around and was able to find the location of the corpse. “Want to go check it out?” he asked with a smirk. If anything could take Clint’s mind off whatever was bothering him and making him paranoid, putting him in Mission ModeÔ could.

 

Clint nodded vigorously and started sprinting away towards the stretch of beach James had already located. “Race ya!” he yelled over his shoulder before tripping over a patch of grass and face-planting onto the sand. “You didn’t see that!”

 

James shook his head fondly and dashed off after his human-tragedy blond who was trying his hardest to run on the sand without falling (again). He let Clint win but only because he wasn’t much of a runner and was too busy watching the oddly graceful flailing of Clint’s limbs as he dashed across the warm sand.

 

By the time James caught up with Clint, the archer was doing some kind of dance that involved a lot of hip gyration and arm waving. “I win. I win. I win,” he chanted over and danced in a circle around James who could do nothing but get distracted by the way the early spring brought out the natural highlights in Clint’s light blond hair, or how his mouth curled into a wicked smile, or the number of other things James had noticed about the archer since meeting him again. “I win. You lose.”

 

_He’s adorable, but he needs to stop singing_ , he thought to himself before calmly walking up to Clint and flipping the larger man over his shoulder and depositing him straight into the surf. “You were saying?” James found himself asking after Clint shook his wet fringe out of his eyes and spit out a mouth full of sea water.

 

“I win,” Clint repeated with warm smile. He held out a hand asking for help standing up. It was definitely the oldest trick in the book. And James fell for it. Hook line and sinker. In that moment he realized that he was a lot less Winter Soldier than the doctors thought. The Asset wouldn’t have fallen for such an obvious trick; but James found himself on his back next to Clint in the icy cold water of Montauk, New York.

 

“Ya, know,” Clint said after several quiet moments where they both pulled themselves out of the surf, “I’ve been wondering for years how I managed to sneak by you and snag your target back when we first met, but I figured it out.”

 

James was momentarily struck dumb by the casual way Clint remarked about their first meeting. He had spent ages trying to figure out if the archer remembered anything about their first encounter, and here he was, talking about it as if he hadn’t just acted oblivious for pretty much the entire time they’ve gotten to know each other.

 

“-at my ass.”

 

_Damnit._ He didn’t mean to check out of the conversation, but he was attempting to figure out if Clint was purposely obtuse or just being mean.

 

“You didn’t hear a thing I just said, did you?” Clint asked with a frown. James could do nothing but shake his head. Clint sighed and stood up. “It wasn’t important.”

 

Clint, master of avoidance that he was, refused to repeat himself and instead grabbed James’s metal hand and pulled him along the sand. James allowed himself to be pulled along behind Clint so he could appreciate the view without worrying about being caught.

 

_The Soldier was enjoying the power shift. He was never in control of his life or what he chose to do with it, so being able to pin the blond against the wall with one arm was definitely a nice change from the norm._

 

_He felt a wicked grin curl across his lips when the nameless blond wrapped his legs around his waist. The Soldier adjusted his feet to counter the additional weight he was carrying and moved his arm from where it had been pinning the blond’s shoulder against the wall to gripping a pair of impressive biceps. “Limber,” the Soldier commented, impressed with his companion’s flexibility._

 

_“I was in the circus,” the blond replied breathlessly even as he nearly lost his balance and had to tighten his grip on the Soldier’s waist._

_Part of the Soldier filed away the small tidbit of information to use against his companion but a larger part of him was intrigued by how the archer moved and wanted to see more circus tricks._

James shook his head and smiled at the memory. “Hey Clint,” he called to Clint’s back and half hoped that the archer couldn’t hear him over the wind and the ocean.

 

Clint stopped and turned. “Did you say something? It’s super hard for me to hear you if I can’t see you.”

 

Part of James was curious as to what happened to Clint’s hearing but part of him _really_ didn’t want to know because it probably wasn’t for any good reason. The part that didn’t want to know won out, and he just shook his head and reached out for Clint. Instead of asking Clint about their time together he stood up.

 

“We should probably get out of the surf. You’ll freeze.”

 

Clint frowned and stood up. “You’ll freeze too. You’re a super soldier, not invincible. You don’t need to be uncomfortable, you know.”

 

James could read between the lines. He knew what Clint was implying and he was grateful for the support but more grateful for Clint and his ability to not mention the awkward stuff that falls under the category of I Don’t Want to Talk About It.

 

It was, perhaps, _not_ a good coping method.

 

“I’m from Brooklyn, a little cold isn’t enough to bother me,” he said instead. It was a good tension breaker and got an exasperated smile from Clint.

 

“Neither you nor Steve will ever let us forget you’re from Brooklyn.”

 

James felt his shoulder lift and drop in a small shrug. It was true. The entirety of New York City did that – it was just what the boroughs did. Always have, always will. It was comforting, in a way: there were just some things that would never change. The skyline rose and fell all the time as buildings were gained and lost; the sky would never look quite the same as it did when he was a boy during the Depression; but New Yorkers would always announce themselves. It just was the way it worked.

 

_Like now,_ James noted with wide-eyed surprise. “Be that as it may,” he said with false calm as he got to his feet and slid immediately into a fighting stance. “It looks like New York is looking for a fight again.”

 

Clint groaned and turned to face the same direction James was facing. He squinted and shielded his eyes from the mid-afternoon sun as if that would change the scene he was watching. “Huh. Tell me you have some kind of weapon with your bike. I have a knife in my boot but that’s it.”

 

James felt himself nod even as his brain tried to process what he was looking at. “Yeah,” he answered absently, “there’s a few handguns and extra mags and that plasma bow Stark made you in the seat. Can you sneak-”

 

He didn’t even get to finish his question before Clint seemed to disappear before his eyes. It was always sexy to see the grace born of true skill and passion, but at the same time, he felt sad that there was anything to make Clint turn into one of the world’s greatest assassins. Now though, he was grateful for the support especially as he shifted his feet wider and dug the toes of his boots deeper into the wet sand.

 

With one eye he tracked Clint’s progress as he darter quickly and quietly towards where James had parked the bike away from the beach and with the other he kept his opponents in front of him. The pale grey sky was streaked through with a supernatural green light. He couldn’t tell where the light was coming from but it was definitely the cause of the band of what looked like Medieval bandits surrounding him.

 

He felt some part of his mind slip away and something darker and more dangerous take its place. It took only a moment to realize that he was slipping away from James and fell into his role as the Winter Soldier.

 

***

 

Clint knew he was taking too long figuring out the logistics of bow without arrows but he knew he couldn’t go back to James without being able to help him as much as possible. Abandoning his new find for a moment, he peaked his head over the seat of the monster James called a bike and spied the group of misplaced Robin Hood extras circle around James and back him further into the water.

 

He knew, logically, that James was fine and didn’t really need his help; but logic wasn’t the prevailing part of his brain as he watched the water swirl around James’s calves. It would hinder his movements and slow him down; but as skilled as James was, the man was definitely not known for his speed – but an arm made of heavy metal would weigh anyone down. So he grabbed the duffle bag full of handguns and extra mags ( _a couple my ass_ , he thought to himself absently) and slung it over his shoulders so it could rest against his back.

 

It wasn’t as necessary to be quiet on his way back to where James was slowly stalking down the surf so he could get himself out of the proverbial corner he had been pushed into while they hadn’t been paying attention. Clint knew that his escape had been too lucky – there was almost no way he had managed to get all the way down the now deserted stretch of beach without being seen. But he couldn’t feel anyone watching him as he scaled up a small outcropping of rocks to get a better look.

 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to get a weapon to James until he cleared a path through the bandits. It was just a matter of figuring out the specs of his new toy. “You couldn’t make it user friendly, Tony?” he complained quietly before he started experimenting with the seemingly solid riser.

 

Clint continued to curse at the small part of a weapon until something slid into place and then collapsed. He was _not_ going to tell anyone that the recurve smacked his in the nose as it the limbs unfolded from the rest.

 

Once the entire bow appeared sans string, it was easy to figure out what, exactly, Tony had created. The bow hummed with energy coming from a miniscule arc reactor that was glowing, not blue like Tony’s, but a purple. If he was more self-absorbed, he would assume the color was for him; but he wasn’t quite as obnoxious as he would have most people believe. Instead, he figured the reactor wasn’t quite the same as what powered the Iron Man suits and was situated at the end of the arrow rest. “Looks like this should be on the bowstring,” he mumbled to himself before he realized he didn’t have to figure everything out by himself.

 

Tony Stark was a genius. He would never say those words aloud, but he was most certainly thinking them as he was still able to make a call on a phone that had taken an extended bath in the Atlantic. “Tony!” he shouted in lieu of a greeting as he snuck a look at the scene below him – the man standing in the surf was most definitely _not_ James Barnes anymore. “How do I fire a fud – fucking arrow out of this thing?”

 

“This had better be important, Merida,” Tony answered sounding out of breath and cutting in and out even through the super-secret-super-awesome Avengers only line.

 

“Dude, I’m trying to figure out which circle of Archer Hell I’m gonna be in for sniping what is most likely Will Scarlet.”

 

There was a static-filled paused before Clint heard the rumble of a repulsor beam warm up and fire. “Do you see the glowing thing? There’s a small latch – it flips up into a scope.” Clint did as instructed and then noticed the nocking point wasn’t on a string but on the bow itself.

 

He would have to congratulate Tony for his ingenuity later after he rescued James from the Ren-Fest wannabes. “Wait! Clint!” he heard Tony start to say before Clint hung up his phone. It wasn’t that he didn’t care what Tony had to say, but he had better things to do than listening to Tony go on about something that wasn’t nearly as important than rescuing James. And also getting to fight Will Scarlet (no one could tell him it _wasn’t_ him). Also also using his new super badass bow.

 

Speaking of bow, it was time to come to the rescue. He stood up straight and felt a cold shiver travel up and down his spine when he spied James do some impressive backflip and use his thighs to take down a bandit with an honest to goodness broadsword. “Yeah, that’s not hot or anything,” he whispered before he shook the errant thought out of his mind about what else James could do with those thighs.

 

He clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep his cool and _not_ panic like he wanted to. James, despite his excellent skills, was outnumbered and was being backed into another corner. It was like watching an animal realize it was cornered. He could almost feel the ferocity coming off James in waves. Clint knew that the man below him was less James and more the Winter Soldier but it didn’t stop him from knowing that _James was in trouble_.

 

Clint reached to activate the reactor and draw back like he would with a regular arrow. He knew it wasn’t smart to use a bow without his guards and bracers but he wasn’t quite expecting the searing pain to erupt in his fingers where he was holding on to something that seemed both solid and translucent at the same time.

 

He was a professional. That was the only reason he managed to make the shot. And the others to follow. It was a great design, he reasoned even as he bit his lip to keep from screaming, but it was also flawed. Or he was missing something.

 

When he looked back at the damage he had caused he managed to make eye contact with James who waved him down with a twitch of his fingers. Clint grabbed the bag and climbed down the ledge where he dashed across the small stretch of beach to stand at James’s right side so he wouldn’t be in the way of James’s greatest weapon. “I’ve got your back, James,” he called as he started shooting at the out-of-time rogues.

 

He stood back to back with James and slowly, so slowly, they were able to best the band that had originally outnumbered them 10 to 1. He knew this particular battle would send him straight to archer hell as he put a glowing purple arrow through the eye socket of who could only be Robin Hood. He winced, but knew that his and James’ life were more important thaWith a twitch of his hand the bow collapsed in on itself and fell to the ground as the pain in his hands finally became too much to ignore.

 

A pair of steely grey eyes zeroed in on the bright red burns on Clint’s hand where he had drawn the plasma arrows. “ _What happened_?” James barked out in Russian. Clint only knew that phrase thanks to Natasha and her determination to teach him her Mother tongue back when they had first teamed up before either of them had been recruited by SHIELD.

 

Clint really didn’t want to remind James that he had slipped into Solider mode on accident, but he also really _really_ wanted him to snap out of it before they made their way back to Manhattan – also, he really _really really_ didn’t want to face the wrath of Angry Steve and his disappointed shoulders ( _stupid shoulders_ ). “English,” Clint half commanded, half requested. “And I think I fudged up Stark’s new bow. It burnt the crap out of me.” Only years of training and even more years of perpetual abuse had allowed him to all but ignore the huge amount of physical pain he was in if only to make sure that James didn’t suffer from any emotional pain from beating himself up over what amounted to an hour with Doctor Cho and her magic box.

 

The steel in his eyes turned stormy and slowly softened to safe levels and Clint knew the Soldier was gone. In his place stood a very impressed looking James Barnes. He surveyed the damage they had inflicted upon their opponents before he turned around and spotted something that made him whip back around to face Clint. “You shot Robin Hood in the eye.”

 

Clint ruffled his hair, embarrassed. “Yeah.”

 

“You shot Robin Hood in the eye,” James said again, as if Clint hadn’t heard him correctly the first time.

 

“Yeah,” Clint answered again. “It wasn’t that hard of a shot to land. He was like two feet behind you and you were all busy being badass in the other direction.” He shrugged. He had zero idea why James was being like – well, like _this_.

 

“ _You_ shot _Robin Hood_ in the eye because he was, what? Sneaking up on me? You fucking shot the legendary outlaw archer in the fucking eye with Stark’s fancy fucking plasma arrow for me?”

 

Clint really couldn’t understand what the big deal was. “Of course I did. He was coming up behind you and I couldn’t let him get you.” What kind of teammate would that make him if he let James get hurt or killed because the second coolest archer of all time was the one doing the attacking?

 

James stalked closer to Clint – and when was his walk that menacing? – and stopped just shy of sharing the same breath. His eyes were shimmering with some unnamed emotion; and the fact that Clint was able to see any kind of reaction was impressive as James usually kept everything pretty internalized. So he was understandably equal parts confused and concerned.

 

***

 

When James felt the fog of the Soldier lift and he surveyed the damage he and Clint had inflicted on their attackers he felt almost sick with the pure sure of vindictive pleasure he took in killing anyone who dared attack what was his. He was also insanely impressed and turned on with the accuracy of the circular burns on Clint’s targets. Every body had just one point of impact in vital body parts.

 

_So sexy._

 

He turned around to double check that they had eliminated every threat and that was when he saw the most surprising thing ever. Clint fucking shot Robin Hood.

 

And the dummy didn’t understand why that was the most amazing thing ever.

 

It didn’t seem to matter how many times he said it or different inflection, Clint just didn’t get it. He stood now, inches from Clint (and when had that happened? He was unconsciously doing things) and could only give him the barest of warnings before he tugged on the collar of Clint’s t-shirt and pulled him down so they were eye to eye.

 

James was really tired of beating around the bush and attempting to woo the very oblivious Clint Barton. Instead of using his words, which seemed to have no effect on his companion, he decided to try a more direct approach. “Unless you stop me right now, so help me God, I’m going to kiss you until you finally use your damn eyes.”

 

Clint’s eyes widened comically wide as he nodded vigorously so that his head almost collided with James’. _Klutz,_ he internally teased the blonde before he stood up on his tiptoes and gently, oh, so gently, kissed Clint. Or, he had intended to keep it sweet and gentle; but Clint just had to fucking mewl and dig his uninjured hand into James’ hip and forced away the remaining distance between their bodies. “Jesus, you’re gonna be the death of me,” James managed to gasp out before diving into another kiss.

 

If they weren’t surrounded by bodies and still soaked to the bone James was sure he would climb Clint like a tall, blond tree. A really really oblivious tree that was also really attractive and smart and compassionate….and totally falling backwards. “Oops?” James said with a wince. He hadn’t meant to make them overbalance.

 

Clint just gave James a wicked smile which was pretty impressive considering he was covered in sand and had a piece of seaweed attacking his corn silk blond hair. “I’m falling for you,” he said with a shrug.

 

James dropped his forehead onto Clint’s chest with a groan. “You’re way too cheesy to be allowed to exist. But since you’re also pretty amazing and amazingly pretty I’ll let you get away with it.” He sat up and caught another glance at Clint’s burnt hand. “We should really get you back so we can get that looked at.”

 

Clint pouted and shook his head. “But I was having fun kissing you,” he whined sounding much like a child instead of a badass who took out half of the mob of woodland rogues from the Dark Ages. “Can we go back to that once we go back or was this more of a-“ Clint paused as he searched for whatever word he was trying to reach for. “-a one-time only kind of deal?”

 

It was times like this that James really wished he could march back through history and destroy everyone who had ever hurt and ruined Clint and his obviously fragile self-esteem. It was the only explanation as to why Clint couldn’t see why James would want to continue where they had left off. “This is most definitely _not_ a ‘one-time only’ deal. I would very much like to kiss you again. And again. And, if you’re up for it, I’m gonna take you out on a real date and then we’re going to have sex on every available surface until we can’t remember our own names.”

 

Clint nodded, opened his mouth as if he was going to reply, and then closed it again. “I’m totally down for that,” he said after a long silence. “Totally down for that.”

 

With (almost) everything out in the open, James reluctantly stood up so that he was no longer straddling Clint’s thighs. “Let’s get you checked out and see what the hell was up with the green sky and the Merry Men.” James reached out and threaded his metal fingers through the uninjured fingers on Clint’s right hand. It was nice, he found. He had never gotten to hold hands with someone since before the war and never someone who’s hands were larger than his. Large and warm and strong. It was – there weren’t words for it. It just _was_ and he was okay with not being able to put a name to what he was feeling as the sensory receptors sent threads of pressure up the metal plates and delicate mechanisms of Hydra engineering up to his head where the only thing his brain was processing was _nice.safe.right.home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not yet dead! Soooo sorry guys. I just started a new job with a butt ton of hours each week so I just haven't had the time to go through and do everything I wanted to forever. I'm so, so sorry.
> 
> Also, I'm a filthy liar. I ended up adding things and now it's 3 chapters instead of the original two that I was going with. So, there's one more part before everything gets all tied up in a neat little bow and my sweet, sweet boys find their happily ever after.


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